


The Best Kind of Present

by Fayah



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, PWP, jersey kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayah/pseuds/Fayah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aomine Daiki was a healthy adult male with an equally healthy (if not slightly over-enthusiastic) libido, one that had no problem leaping into full gear when he walked in on his boyfriend trying out his old high school jersey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Kind of Present

**Author's Note:**

> This was shameless PWP I wrote for a friend's birthday even if idk how to write PWP. An attempt was made.

 

Aomine Daiki was a healthy adult male with an equally healthy (if not slightly over-enthusiastic) libido, one that had no problem leaping into full gear when he walked in on his boyfriend trying out his old high school jersey. 

Kuroko, calm as ever, simply tilted his head, exposing an even larger expanse of skin that the jersey did nothing to hide, and commented "Ah, you're home early,  _Daiki_." 

As if he didn't know  _exactly_  what he was doing to Aomine's nether regions. The small smirk on Kuroko's face was a giveaway - Aomine would bet his pants on it. Actually, he would have preferred to Kuroko's pants on it, if not for the fact that  _Kuroko didn't seem to have any._   

The fabric of his uniform felt tighter than ever against his skin. It seemed that Kuroko had neglected to find his old shorts along with his old jersey. 

"I...yes," he replied dumbly, his mouth growing dry. He barely managed to move his gaze from those unmarked (not yet, at least) thighs back upwards to Kuroko's far too amused face.

"It's still a bit big on me, even after all these years," Kuroko said, fingering the fabric that dropped below his waist. 

"I think it looks good." Really, Aomine is pretty sure his brain had long stopped functioning and his dick had launched a successful hostile takeover in its place, but at the very least, he was being honest. Tetsu  _did_  look good dressed in black and red. It brought an even more serious air about him, one promising equal parts danger and pleasure. Just how many high school fantasies had he had with this same exact scene? 

Kuroko did not miss the way Aomine was practically gaping with a telling hunger in his eyes. "Would it look better off?" Kuroko teased.

And if that wasn't permission to tackle his boyfriend onto the bed, the sound that Kuroko made when he pressed his nose against a fabric-covered nub, inhaling the scent of fresh detergent and days of pining long past, definitely sounded like a green light to Aomine. "No on. Definitely on," he answered, slipping his hand under the fabric to palm at Kuroko's growing erection.

No boxers either, it seemed. 

Kuroko only hummed in an agreement, drawing Aomine in for a kiss. And from there, it devolved into frantic but well practiced actions which all narrowed down to the simple goal of maximum pleasure with minimum discomfort. Aomine's pants was the first thing to go, quickly followed by the rest of his uniform. 

Aomine was convinced that Kuroko was a fucking magician, because he couldn't even remember his clothes coming off. Or perhaps that was because he was far too busy marking up Kuroko's neck - the skin had looked far too inviting to resist. Either way, he had no complaints, especially not when Kuroko was grinding right into him, uniform riding up to his stomach to accommodate for the skin-on-skin contact. 

At this point, penetration was not even in Aomine's mind. Too much of a hassle. This was enough: Kuroko's half lidded eyes gazing at him and only him, the steady pants coming from those parted lips, the increasingly burning rush of pleasure that threatened to consume him at any moment. Yeah, this was more than enough.

"T-Tetsu," he breathed, his motions growing more frenzied. He's not sure what he wants anymore, he's just so, so close, but Kuroko was well versed in the language of Aomine and understands perfectly.

He firmly pushed at Aomine, rolling them both so that his position was now on top. Aomine thrusted upwards appreciatively at the new view and Kuroko, flushed but unashamed at the attention, responded by raking his hands on Aomine's chest as he leaned down for a kiss, all while rocking his hips in a new, faster pace. 

It was just what Aomine needed, because everything was now a flood of Kuroko coming down on him and both his dick and his brain agreed that this was a flood he would not mind drowning in. Breaking the kiss, Aomine grabbed Kuroko in an impromptu hug and dug his fingers into the now sweaty fabric of the jersey, gripping Kuroko tightly as he made his final thrusts.

Kuroko grunted, soon following and collapsing in a boneless heap on top of a now very messy chest. "Happy birthday," he said with the last of his energy. 

"That was a pretty damn awesome present," Aomine said, his brain not quite functional yet but still very appreciative of the sight of a disheaveled Kuroko draped over him.

Kuroko managed an amused smile. "I expect the same for mine."

"Ya'know your jersey is too small for me, right?"

"Who said it had to be my jersey?" The smile transformed into a much more unsettling smirk, and yet, Aomine still felt a twitch of arousal at the proposition. Damn his libido. "I think an apron would suit Aomine-kun quite nicely." 

 


End file.
